Wet Hair Sand Kiss
by 5222008
Summary: Quinn and Rachel share a car ride home after a day at the beach.


Quinn knew Rachel was mad at her, but she wasn't sure _why_, exactly. The two friends had shared a wonderful day, getting up early and driving from Lima to Bay Village, a suburb of Cleveland with a hidden beach. They'd spent the day playing in Lake Erie, eating sandwiches they'd bought at a local deli, and enjoying the sun and sand. As far as Quinn was concerned, it had been the perfect day. Now, it was 9.30, they had begun the long drive back to Lima, and Rachel hadn't spoken to her in exactly 56 minutes.

"Rach? I don't really know what's wrong, but if you tell me, I can try to fix it."

"Hmph." Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the passenger window.

"Ra-a-ach! Come on! We had a really nice day! What happened?"

"Quinn," Rachel said, frustration evident in just that one word. "When you're on the beach with a girl, after dark, and she lies down in the sand, with wet hair, it means she wants you to kiss her."

That was unexpected.

"Really?"

"Really." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Because _everyone_ knows that! I was playing with the cuff of your pants, I was batting my eyelashes in the most alluring way possible, and I was purposely making my lips look kissably soft!" Rachel turned to glare at Quinn and poked her in the shoulder with one outstretched finger before crossing her arms again.

Quinn thought back to the evening on the beach. They'd discussed Rachel's cousins who lived in New Hampshire, her own cousins who lived in California, and the few constellations that each of them knew. There had been no indication that Rachel had wanted anything more than conversation; Quinn was sure of it.

"You _were_?"

Rachel uncrossed her arms and leaned against the passenger door, regarding Quinn critically.

"You, Quinn Fabray, are honestly the most oblivious person I've ever known."

Quinn snorted. "Hey, I wanted to kiss you. I just didn't want to kiss you and have you not want to be kissed!"

"Wet hair. In the sand. Kiss. That's how it goes."

"What rule book are you reading? I want a copy."

"Hmph." Rachel crossed her arms again and looked out the window, but Quinn could tell she was softening.

"Rachel, I'm sorry. I really did _want_ to kiss you! It's just that, well, we haven't exactly talked about this, and it would have been the first time we'd kissed sober, and — "

"Actually," Rachel interjected. "I was sober at Noah's last party."

Quinn thought back to the party Puck had thrown the previous weekend. She vaguely remembered a heated make-out session in a linen closet, but only vaguely.

"You were sober? I was _not_ sober." In fact, she distinctly remembered the morning _after_ Puck's party, when she had been _thisclose_ to swearing off drinking altogether except, of course, for the fact that swearing off drinking would mean would mean swearing off kissing Rachel. And she really kind-of _liked_ kissing Rachel, even if she was sure that Rachel was only kissing her because she was drunk. But if Rachel was sober…

"Yeah." Rachel uncrossed her arms and began nervously playing with the hem of her tank top, the lights of the dashboard illuminating her face as she bit her lower lip. "After the sixth drunken make-out, I decided I wanted to know what it was like sober, so I decided I wouldn't drink last weekend, and then when we made out and I _was_ sober, and I still really liked it, I tried to get you to kiss me on the beach and then… " She trailed off into silence and stared at her hands.

Several minutes passed before Rachel spoke again.

"Qui — Quinn? Are you mad at me?"

Quinn was startled by the question.

"What? No, Rach, I'm not mad at all. I'm just — I mean — Are we — are we sober kissing now?"

Rachel laughed.

"Well, duh, not _now_, but, you know, _now_." Quinn waved her right hand vaguely and brought it down to rest on the gear shift.

Rachel hesitantly brought her hand down to cover Quinn's.

"I'd like to sober-kiss you," she said quietly. "I know you might not be ready to date me or anything, and frankly I'm not sure if _I'm_ ready for that, but — "

"Rach," Quinn said. "Calm down. I like being your friend. A lot. And you're right, I'm not sure if I'm ready to date you — or to date anyone, really — but I'd like to sober-kiss you too."

Rachel's grin glowed in the semi-darkness, and Quinn blushed when she saw it, loving the fact that she had been the one to put that smile on her best friend's face.

Quinn turned her hand so it was comfortably holding Rachel's. Rachel tugged gently, bringing their linked hands to rest on her lap. They drove the rest of the way to Lima in silence, anticipating the first kiss for which _both_ of them would be sober.

"Thank you for driving," said Rachel as Quinn pulled to a stop outside the Berry home.

"Of course!" said Quinn. "But, Rachel?"

"Yes?" Rachel asked, while gathering her belongings.

"Get me a copy of that rule book. Because seriously, if I'd known about that sand and wet hair rule…"

Rachel laughed, leaned across the center console and gently kissed Quinn on the cheek before getting out of the car.

"I'll loan you my copy tomorrow, I promise. Just come by to pick it up, and I'll even teach you some of the other rules, too."


End file.
